


love in the dark

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: Steve and the reader have been keeping their relationship a secret, and the reader starts to question the reasons why
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Reader, Steve Harrington/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62





	love in the dark

The thing about secrets is that, contrary to popular belief, _we_ don’t actually have _them_ : _they_ have _us_. They wind around us like vines up a pole, weave into our bones and push into our lungs. They infect and tear apart, and they always come out, eventually.

There are only a few reasons to justify a secret. To ‘keep the peace’ or to avoid guilt or shame. To protect us from the world and the way it sees us.

The reasons are very, very seldom good, and very, very likely to harm.

It was Steve’s idea to keep the secret a relationship in the beginning. Your brother, Dustin, would surely never let you hear the end of it once he found out, and there were monsters to fight, and a whole bundle of other reasons why keeping things under wraps was the best way to go.

And in the beginning, you’d agreed.

But the monsters are gone, at least for now. Dustin is so caught up in schoolwork and clubs that he’s rarely home. The excuses are falling away like a crumbling roof, and soon, there’ll be nothing left above you.

Doubts and insecurities wriggle into the cracks, festering like mold. He’s ashamed of you; he doesn’t want the kids at school to know because he’s embarrassed; he’s too embarrassed to be seen with you. The thoughts swirl around inside your head like butterflies trapped in a jar, battering against the glass and yearning to be free and unfurl their wings to the full capacity.

You find a note in your locker after the fifth period, Steve’s chicken scrawl handwriting prompting you to meet him in the old Spanish classroom during free period. They’re painting and renovating, so the room is unused and only smells a _little_ _bit_ like chemicals.

It isn’t anywhere close to the first time you’ve met him in some quiet, tucked away location, but for some reason, your stomach churns as you move through the halls. Is it too much to ask to have a boyfriend to hold your hand in the halls? To take you to tacky formals? To not have to meet up is dusty closets and classrooms?

You push open the door to the classroom, its interior dark, and slip inside, tugging the door shut behind you. The moment the door clicks shut, hands emerge from the dark, drawing you into waiting arms.

Steve winds his arms around you, catching your mouth in his. You sink into him for a long moment, brain short-circuiting at his touch, lips parting against his. The shades across the room provide little light and the desks are arranged every which way, making navigation dangerous, so you don’t move off the walls, still managing to press as closely together as possible.

He pulls away but doesn’t move too far, keeping his arms around your waist. He ducks his head, nose grazing your neck and making your stomach drop.

“How was your day?” He asks, ghosting a kiss on your jaw before pulling back.

“I definitely failed my chem quiz,” you say, “and Alice and Joanna keep pestering me about finding a prom date.” Steve stills - a touchy subject. “But, you’re here, now. So, not totally shitty.”

“One quiz won’t doom you,” he says, pointedly avoiding the latter half of your swords. “If you ever need a study buddy…” He waggles his brows, and you roll your eyes.

“Because we’ve been _so_ productive studying together in the past.”

He frowns, exaggerating offense.

“Maybe if _someone_ wasn’t so _distracting_ ,” he says.

“ _You’re_ the one who can’t keep your hands to yourself!”

“Because you’re so _distracting_ ,” he says, lips curling up in a lopsided grin. He ducks to kiss you again, slowly, sending sparks down your spine, nailing you in place. When he pulls away, you slide your hands up and wind them loosely around his neck.

“Any suggestions for that other thing?” You ask, cautiously, innocently. Guilt and something akin to panic flashes in his eyes, and disappoint coils a knot in your gut.

“You know-that’s not-it’s-” he stammers, the red blush in his cheeks pronounced enough to be visible in the dark room.

_Big surprise._

You untangle your arms from around him and jam your hands into the pocket of your hoodie, stepping back, his own arms falling to his sides. His emotions war on his face, flickering between shame and frustration and panic and a bunch other you can’t identify.

“Y/N-” he starts.

“I get it,” you snap. “Don’t worry.” You take another step back, turning for the door, only pausing once you’d opened it and stepped halfway into the hall. You meet his gaze, patterned light from the blinds scattered across his face and illuminating the emotion in his eyes.

“Maybe I’ll find someone to take me,” you say coolly. “Someone who won’t be _embarrassed_ to do it.” You leave without another word, letting the door slam shut behind you.

-

You spend the evening fuming in your bedroom, blasting loud music and stuffing yourself with snacks, refusing to let yourself even think about Steve Harrington.

The bastard. You wouldn’t let him take you to some tacky school dance even if he asked. If he _begged_. 

The anger leaves you in a rush, sadness taking its place.

_You would;_ that was the worst part. You absolutely, _absolutely_ would. And you hate it; hate that you want too much from someone who so clearly doesn’t want to give.

A knock against the window derails your train of thought. You still, head snapping to the curtained window. The knock sounds again, and you cross the room, lips turning down in a frown. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust once you tug open the curtain, but they clear to reveal Steve Harrington, looking absolutely pitiful. It’s started to rain outside, and his hair is dusted with water droplets. He smiles apologetically, nodding at the window between you.

After a moment’s pause, you unlock it and shove up the pane.

“Come in,” you say, jerking a chin toward your room and stepping out of the way. Steve climbs in, careful not to knock anything over, landing on the carpet with a soft thud. He shakes the water out of his hair, lifting his head to meet your gaze with a guilty smile.

“I really thought you were gonna leave me out there.”

“You deserve it,” you say, folding your arms across your chest and cocking a brow. His cheeks flush, and he inclines his head, giving a half shrug.

“Yeah, I probably do.”

“Oh, it’s not a probably.”

He crinkles his nose, jamming his hands into his jean pockets and rocking forward on the balls of his toes.

“Earlier,” he says. “What you said-”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” you snap.

“We _do_.”

“What’s there to talk about? You’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

He recoils like he’s been hit. A crease forms between his brows and his lips tug down in a frown.

“Is that what you think?” He asks, voice full of disbelief. You falter momentarily at his tone but push forward.

“It’s what I _know_.”

He shakes his head, and then, of all possible things, he laughs. It’s a surprised laugh, a disbelieving one, but a laugh. It ignites your anger, and it takes everything in you not to smack him.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

He shakes his head again, and steps toward you. “It’s not. It’s not funny, I’m sorry. But that-that’s ridiculous? How could you possibly think I would ever be embarrassed of you?”

Your lips part, and you grasp for something to say.

“Steve, we’ve been dating for four months, and no one knows. Why else would we keep that secret?”

He closes the distance between you, hands settling on your waist, and he lets out a sigh.

“I’m embarrassed of _me_ ,” he says, voice low.

“What?”

He averts his gaze, ears going pink.

“I know you hear what people say about me. I didn’t want anyone to use _me_ as an excuse to do the same to you.” He ducks his chin, and looks up at you through feathered lashes, somehow younger than his years, a shy child. “I was trying to protect _you_ from _me_.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, and Steve smiles a little in his surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“That- _god_. I mean…you’re serious?”

His hands fall from your waist and he frowns. “ _Yes_.”

“You recall that we spent last fall fighting demonic dogs from a parallel universe, right?”

“…Yes?”

“And you thought that a little hallway gossip was going to take me down?”

His lips part, and he cocks his head. He shuts his mouth, frowning. “I….guess I did.”

“That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard,” you say. “And I’ve heard some pretty _ridiculous_ things.”

He presses his lips together, shaking his head, and rakes a hand through his hair. “God. It is. I’m an idiot.”

You let out a breath, stepping toward him and using a finger to pull his face and gaze back to you. You thought he was still that cruel boy who dominated the halls of the school. But that boy doesn’t exist anymore. He isn’t the one in front of you. This boy, this Steve, wants to keep your reputation intact. A silly, certainly foolish effort, but appreciated nonetheless.

“You are,” you say. “But you’re also the _sweetest_ boy in the world.”

His cheeks go beet red, the compliment striking him harder than expected, and his lips curl up in the tiniest - most adorable - of smiles.

“If you want to tell people, we tell people. I don’t care what we do, as long as I get to do it with you.”

You wind your arms around his neck, tugging him close. “Like I said,” you say, “ _Sweetest_.”

He rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the darkening of his cheeks.

“So, you want to?”

You smile, nodding. “Why not?”

“Your brother might kill me.”

“We’ve dealt with worse.”

He grins. “We have, haven’t we?”

And you have. A handful of judgmental teenagers, after all of that, is nothing; nothing that you can’t handle together.


End file.
